


all i want to do is go home with you

by atlantisairlock



Category: Military Wives (2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27779380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/atlantisairlock
Summary: After the Festival of Remembrance, Lisa blinks, and it feels like the whole world suddenly changes.Post-canon, the choir gets sent on a UK tour.
Relationships: Kate Barkley/Lisa Lawson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	all i want to do is go home with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ensorcel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensorcel/gifts).



> oH mY gOd tHeRe wAs oNly oNE bEd
> 
> title from 'touch' by shura.

After the Festival of Remembrance, Lisa blinks, and it feels like the whole world suddenly changes. One moment they’re the first - and only - military wives’ choir in the United Kingdom, just singing together to distract themselves from the ever-present reality of Afghanistan, and the next they’re being inundated by requests to perform at various bases and concert halls around the region. People want to hear them. People want to know how they did what they did, so it can be replicated for other women just like them, who need the same things they need. Lisa said, months ago, that it was about them being heard, and now more than ever, it’s true.

“A UK tour,” the top brass tell them in a meeting with her, Kate and Crooks. Kate’s straight-backed, pen poised over her notebook. Lisa can see the gears in her mind already turning. Planning, organising, thinking through what they need to do to make this successful. And this time, Lisa will be there with her, side by side, every step of the way.

They’ll make this happen. They’ll make it _good._ The Flitcroft military wives’ choir. She reaches under the table and gives Kate’s arm a quick squeeze, and Kate shoots a small smile back. They’ve got this.

With some help and direction from Crooks and the top brass, Kate, quite predictably, helms tour planning. She trusts Lisa with deciding their repertoire and drilling the wives so they’re in top form for the tour; she’s there at every practice to ensure her vocal training doesn’t slip, but she also spends every night wrestling with the nitty-gritty logistics. Lisa offers to help out, and Kate always tells her she’ll be fine, and to focus on the choir instead. Lisa spends a few hours feeling a little injured about it before getting her head together and realising Kate’s complete faith in her basically leading the choir singlehandedly says more about Kate’s trust in her than letting her help book hotels might. She leaves Kate to it, just drags her keyboard to the welfare centre every practice and makes sure the wives can sing every song on their final list to perfection. Backwards if that’s what a performance calls for.

June comes around. Red’s home from Afghanistan and not due for another tour anytime soon, so Lisa doesn’t feel as much anxiety about leaving Frankie behind for a month or so. Frankie for her part just hugs Lisa tight and wishes her good luck. Well, after complaining jealously that Lisa basically gets to road-trip around the United Kingdom while she’s stuck going to school as usual. Red laughs, ruffles her hair, and promises to spoil her rotten with ice cream for dessert every day to make up for it.

She’ll miss them. Lisa knows she will. But when she meets the choir at the coach bay, heading off to Exeter for their very first performance - when she greets Kate and sees the excitement in her eyes, hears the chatter of the other women all nervous and filled with anticipation, she can’t help but feel anything but thrilled. This is a chance she never even dreamed they could get. She definitely wants to make the best of it.

Budgets being what they are, the tour isn’t exactly a month and a half of unbridled luxury and it definitely isn’t all roses either. Kate’s booked them into decent hotels - nothing that looks like it frequently hosts drug deals or anything like that - but there’s not a chance of them getting individual rooms, not with that many of them. Sometimes they’re four to a room in the bigger hotels, but mostly they double up. Kate draws up an honest-to-god roommate chart like they’re back in secondary school going on their first overseas trip but it keeps everything smooth and organised so Lisa wisely doesn’t make any cracks about it.

She ends up as Kate’s roommate, which also makes sense - they need to debrief that day’s performance every night and run through things to note for the next day, especially if they’re moving to a different hotel or driving down to a different city. The planning and keeping shit together doesn’t stop just because they’re _on_ the tour. One week in and Lisa starts falling into a routine - checking into the hotel, bumping in for rehearsals, performing for a few nights, talking through what went well and what didn’t and giving the choir updates and points for improvement, checking out when they’re done, loading everything onto the coach, moving on, and repeating it all over again. It’s exhausting and frenetic and it’s without question one of the most exhilarating, rewarding things Lisa’s ever done. She’s _so_ happy, so fulfilled. They’ll get up at five in the morning and gather all the wives in the hotel lobby and stack luggage in the coach’s baggage compartment and she’ll count heads before settling in the front seat beside Kate, and they’ll exchange glances before they both nod off for a five-hour nap as they drive to their next destination, and Lisa will see her expression mirrored on Kate’s face. This is exactly where they’re meant to be.

“I’m so happy,” Kate tells her, sixteen days and five cities in. The sun’s barely breached the horizon, the barest hints of vibrant orange and yellow beginning to bleed into the sky. The coach is trundling down the A11 to Norwich and she and Kate are pressed shoulder to shoulder in the coach seat that Lisa swears is beginning to mould to the curve of her spine. Kate slurs it sleepily, quietly, breathlessly, like it’s a secret she’s not supposed to tell. She’ll fall asleep after she says that, dead to the world for three more hours until they reach their next hotel, but in that moment she simply grins up at Lisa with a softness in her expression that makes her look younger, freer, that makes Lisa feel strangely young herself. They trust each other more now, and Lisa would call Kate her friend without hesitation, but Kate says _I’m so happy_ and it feels like the truest thing Kate’s ever told her, the one thing that’s completely real. Like she’s seeing Kate again for the very first time.

And it makes her feel happy too.

Their tour route is, honestly, a little weird. Lisa blames it on Flitcroft being basically smack in the middle of the United Kingdom which ends up with them going all the way down to the southernmost part of the region, then all the way up in Scotland, then coming back down - their final performance is in Leeds, which means thank _fuck_ it’ll only take them about an hour back to the garrison. After weeks upon weeks of being shuttled around the UK, surrounded by the same thirty women, her whole life centred around singing, Lisa’s really looking forward to getting home, lying in bed, and just passing out for a bit. It’s been one of the most amazing experiences of her life, probably second only to giving birth to Frankie, but that doesn’t mean it hasn’t taken a lot out of her. It’s definitely the same with the rest of the wives.

“I miss Malc,” Helen sighs over dinner at a chippy in Doncaster. “Even miss how he snores in bed. Maz doesn’t do it the same way.”

“I don’t snore, you arsehole,” Maz shoots back, giving Helen a shove; she shoves back in a manner most unbecoming for her age and it devolves into a shoving match around the table. Lisa snorts and turns to Kate to crack her old joke about their noble, dignified choir, only to find Kate quietly pushing her chips around her plate, not looking at the others. Lisa frowns, leaning closer and keeping her voice low. “Hey. You okay?”

A beat, two, before Kate responds. “I’m fine,” even though she doesn’t really sound it. “I’m not very hungry. Do you want the rest of my chips?”

“Sure,” says Lisa. The other wives are still poking fun at each other and Helen’s getting spirited about what Maz’s snoring sounds like, but Lisa just takes Kate’s fork from her hand and eats her chips, one by one. Like it’s just the two of them, alone in the chippy, and nothing else in the world exists beyond that.

They do their last performance in Doncaster that evening, then drive down to Leeds; it should only be an hour’s journey but traffic’s awful and it’s eleven by the time they get there and they’ve got a bump-in and full day of rehearsals starting from eight the next morning. Lisa’s tired, her feet ache, and she just wants to shower and debrief with Kate and go the fuck to sleep. They have four nights in Leeds, their last four performances, and then they go home and get on with their lives and they’re just the garrison’s choir once more. Lisa isn’t sure whether she’s completely looking forward to that or not.

Kate goes to check them all in, which usually doesn’t take long, since she had all the hotels booked more than a month in advance like the hyper-organised leader she is. When ten minutes have passed and she and the clerk at the front desk both look increasingly stressed, Lisa knows something’s wrong. The wives don’t really pay attention, all of them already half-asleep, but Lisa goes over and touches Kate’s elbow. “What’s going on?”

“Hotel’s messed up our reservation somehow. We’re missing a room, and they’re booked almost to full capacity.”

 _“What?”_ Lisa can feel a headache beginning to throb between her temples. They’ve got to be kidding. They’ve got _four_ nights ahead of them, this can’t possibly be happening. “Where the hell are two of us going to sleep?”

“We have a room, ma’am,” says the frazzled-looking clerk. “I was just about to tell Mrs Barkley over here - “

“Just Kate,” Kate interrupts the same time Lisa does. “Great, then what’s the problem? We have the rooms we need, let’s check in, I need to just collapse in bed and die until morning.”

“Well, it’s, it’s just that it won’t be on the same floor as the rest of your party, and it has a double bed, not two singles - “

 _“Oh,”_ she and Kate say in unison, although Kate sounds a little more startled than Lisa does; she’s honestly just relieved nobody’s going to end up sleeping on someone else’s floor. “Well. I think we can survive that for a few nights. Kate?”

“Yes,” says Kate, a little distantly; Lisa guesses she’s probably a bit reluctant to squeeze on a double bed with her for four nights but they’re the leaders of the choir so Lisa thinks they probably have a duty to suck it up and be a little uncomfortable than subject any of the other women to that. The clerk hurriedly checks them in and hands Kate a bundle of key cards, which she distributes to the others. She and Kate will be a floor above the wives, which is fine. It’s not like they’re kids who can’t be trusted not to get up to mischief without their supervision. It’s just four nights.

The room’s small, but bearable, and the bed doesn’t look _that_ cramped. Lisa lets Kate take the shower first, preferring to set out her clothes for the next day and lie on the bed and nap for a few minutes. By the time Lisa’s done with her shower it’s almost midnight and she really, _really_ just wants to get under the covers and not wake up until her alarm rings.

“You’re okay with this, right? Really?” Kate asks, hesitating by the side of the bed as Lisa gets in, and Lisa wants to say that she really could not care less; at this point a mattress on the floor would be preferable to sleeping on the actual floor in Jess and Annie’s room or something, but when she blinks her eyes open again Kate looks genuinely concerned and Lisa sighs. “Come on, Kate, it’s fine. There’s no other good alternative. And I promise I don’t hog the blankets. Just get in bed; we’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

Kate wavers for a second and Lisa wonders if she’s really going to end up taking the tiny couch by the window instead, but it passes, and she carefully slides in beside Lisa, making sure to leave what space she can between them. It’s a little weird, somehow - they sit close on the coach, they bump shoulders on stage when they perform, and Kate pressing herself towards the outer edge of the bed in comparison is so strange. Well. Lisa’s too tired to think about it. Kate can sleep how she likes; Lisa respects her space. She rolls over and flicks the bedside lamp off. “Sleep well, Kate.”

Kate hums in acknowledgment. Lisa closes her eyes and lets herself drop off.

Her alarm is the most unwelcome sound to awaken to in the morning but Lisa reaches out and fumbles to turn it off with a groan, making sure not to hit snooze. They really can’t afford to be late. She’s about to leap out of bed and get a head start to the bathroom when she realises she’s pinned, slightly, by Kate - or more accurately, Kate’s shoulders across her arm, her right ankle hooked loosely against Lisa’s left. Lisa’s not a tosser or turner but it’s not like she doesn’t move at _all_ in bed, and Kate is evidently a shifter; the sheets are bunched up like she was kicking a bit under them. She’s facing Lisa now, still more asleep than awake, although she’s definitely coming around. Lisa feels a sudden surge of fondness that slides away almost as quickly as it came. She carefully extracts her arm from under Kate and gives her a gentle shake. Over the course of the tour, sharing a room with Kate, she’s become used to Kate waking her up if she doesn’t get up to her alarm - Kate is to nobody’s surprise an absolute morning person - and Lisa guesses she must be _really_ tired, if their roles are reversed today. “Psst. Kate, get up. Bump-in and rehearsals in an hour.”

“Got it,” Kate mumbles, slowly blinking herself awake; Lisa goes to wash up while she brings herself around to wakefulness. They’ve got a long day ahead. No time to waste.

It _is_ a long day; the first days always are. They’ve always got to readjust to a new space - new stage, new dressing room, and all the little things that come with that. And of course there’s the usual frantic rush right before a show. It’s a good performance, though - excellent, standing ovation and all, and Lisa finds her heart pounding in that familiar, wonderful way it always does after they move offstage. Her hand is in Kate’s as they return to the dressing room; she squeezes hard. “That was really good.”

“It was,” Kate smiles. “And the acoustics of this hall are incredible. Can you believe we get to sing here for four nights?”

“Thanks to you,” says Lisa, because this was all Kate’s planning, Kate’s direction, Kate’s drive and organisation and her whole idea, a year ago, to make them a choir. Kate shakes her head, as Lisa knew she would. “This belongs to all of us.”

They’d all be clamouring for drinks if they didn’t have another performance tomorrow; as it is they all have an excellent dinner at the restaurant opposite their hotel and then head upstairs to rest and recuperate. The usual routine it’s been for seven weeks, the one that’s soon coming to an end.

Kate falls asleep first, drained from the day. Lisa taps out a long text to Frankie before following suit. Kate’s steady breathing lulls her into sleep, slow, easy, filling the silence. Familiar.

When she startles awake again Lisa knows at once it’s way too early; her phone is silent and the room is dark, no hint of sunlight whatsoever. A quick glance at the digital clock on the side table confirms it’s only two-thirty. For a moment she wonders what woke her. A nightmare? She doesn’t remember it, though, and her heart isn’t racing like it usually does when she has a particularly bad dream -

And then she hears it. From right beside her, soft but unmistakable, is the sound of Kate crying, breathless gasping sobs interspersed with pained, unintelligible utterances. Her fingers are tight in fists, clutching at the sheets.

No nightmare woke her up, but Kate sure sounds like she’s having one. A bad one. Lisa swallows a few times, chasing the sour dryness from her mouth before carefully squeezing Kate’s shoulder and shaking a few times. “Kate,” she says, raspy the first time. “Kate? Wake up, babe, you’re having a nightmare. Kate.”

It takes a couple shakes but Kate eventually awakens, eyes flying open and her cries shuddering into a gasp of wakeful shock. She stares right at Lisa, looking hunted, terrified, tears dripping down her cheeks, and it makes Lisa’s heart ache. Kate’s never looked at her like that, not even after their fight last year, after Lisa said the most cruel thing she could have to Kate. Before she can really think about it, Lisa reaches up to brush Kate’s tears away, thumb passing gently across Kate’s cheekbones. “Hey. It’s okay, you’re awake. You’re okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Kate doesn’t respond, still heaving wet, ragged breaths. Lisa takes a chance and pulls her into a careful embrace, and after a tentative second, Kate rests her cheek against Lisa’s shoulder. She’s still crying, but her breaths get slower, steadier. Lisa draws a hand down her back and breathes for her. “You’re okay,” Lisa repeats. “You’re okay, Kate. Just a nightmare.”

“Just a nightmare,” says Kate, thick with sleep. Lisa keeps repeating the words to her until she feels Kate’s breathing even out and she’s drifted back off to sleep. Gently, she lays Kate back down, head on her pillow. Watches her a few moments more until she’s sure Kate’s sleeping easy again, before returning to sleep herself.

Kate is atypically quiet the next night when they get back, and she lingers on the couch running through the lyrics for their songs at tomorrow’s performance. Lisa glances surreptitiously at the clock and sets her phone down on the side table. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“I thought I ought to take the couch tonight,” Kate says, and Lisa’s stomach really shouldn’t swoop a little at that. It shouldn’t feel like rejection. She takes a beat to find her words. “Right. Ah, why exactly?”

Kate shifts, looking - _guilty,_ of all things. “You deserve a good night’s sleep. I don’t want to wake you in the middle of the night again.”

And god, all that does is make Lisa wonder - how many fucking nights did Kate cry through nightmares, these seven weeks? How many nights did she spend like she did the night before, just a metre from Lisa in the next bed, while Lisa slept soundly and never knew? The thought makes her feel ill. Makes her feel a little angry, almost. She tries her best to keep her voice level. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll give yourself one hell of a backache sleeping on that couch. Tomorrow’s our last performance for the whole tour, and you need to be in top form. You know that.”

“Lisa - “

“Come _on,_ Kate. You are not sleeping on that couch.” She pauses with a little grimace. “Even calling it a couch is a little optimistic. Come to bed. Last show tomorrow.” Kate doesn’t move, and Lisa sighs. “If you want to sleep alone, I’ll take the couch.”

 _“No._ It’ll ruin your back.” Lisa gives Kate a pointed look, and Kate, surprisingly, capitulates. “All right, fine. And I apologise in advance if I wake you again.”

Lisa bites her lip as Kate comes over and gets into bed. She doesn’t speak again until the lights go off. “Kate, you know I’m not annoyed at you, right? For - you can’t help having nightmares. It’s shit. I’m sorry.”

The words hang in the silence for a while; Lisa tamps down a sigh and closes her eyes. If Kate doesn’t want to talk about it, she won’t push. It wasn’t that long ago when things were tenuous between them, when Kate hurt her and Lisa hurt her back and nearly opened a divide between them that couldn’t be fixed. She doesn’t want to risk that happening again, not after the friendship they’ve built between them.

She’s not yet asleep, but almost, when Kate’s voice, soft and unsure, returns. “I used to dream of losing Richard to the war. Then Jamie, when he told me he was going to enlist. They never told me exactly how he died, but my mind could guess. Would paint all sorts of different scenarios, and waking up didn’t help. Because in both worlds, he’s still dead.”

Lisa’s chest aches. She wants to say something, do something, but she doesn’t know what will help. She settles for reaching for Kate’s hand under the covers, linking their fingers. Holding on tight. Reminding Kate she’s not alone. Kate doesn’t let go.

They fall asleep slowly, the world going quiet. Kate says one last thing and Lisa thinks she hears it, but isn’t sure if it’s just a dream -

 _Sometimes,_ Kate says, maybe, or maybe Lisa dreams it, _sometimes I dream of you -_

Their final performance for the tour is nothing short of fucking amazing. The hall is packed to bursting and everyone in the audience is on their feet when they finish Home Thoughts From Abroad and they get calls for an encore of all things. The mood when they stumble backstage is infectiously glorious. Everyone’s laughing delightedly and chattering nineteen to the dozen and they all know something truly wonderful has come to the perfect end. No matter where they go from here, no matter what happens to the Flitcroft military wives’ choir from now on, they will always, always have had this. They started from a group of faltering, untrained women in the Flitcroft welfare centre singing Don’t You Want Me _awfully_ and going for beers afterwards and laughing about it, and they’ve come to this. They get to live with that success for the rest of their lives.

“We’re done!” Ruby yells when they hit the bar afterwards to celebrate; the women raise a cheer in response. “We did it! Three fuckin’ cheers to the Flitcroft military wives’ choir!”

Kate’s laughing when the roar goes up. Lisa joins it but her gaze keeps going back to Kate beside her. Her genuine smile, her fingers on the stem of her wineglass. They are done. Tomorrow, they get on the coach in the morning, and they go home.

They return to their room hours later, a little tipsy, Kate more than Lisa’s ever seen her. She practically _flops_ into bed and it makes Lisa rasp out a little laugh. God, she’s tired. Kate’s half-sprawled over the bed and there really isn’t enough space for that; Lisa squeezes in beside her and nudges her a bit. Kate grumbles and shifts so she ends up with her head on Lisa’s chest. It should probably be weird. It isn’t; it’s nice and Lisa doesn’t feel like questioning it, not at one in the morning in a tiny hotel room. Lisa closes her eyes and feels a smile curving her lips.

Minutes pass, Lisa feeling herself slowly slip into a restful sleep, and she isn’t really conscious of what she’s doing until Kate hums and she feels it against her collarbone. “Feels nice,” Kate murmurs sleepily, and Lisa realises, with a dazed, warm sort of surprise, that she’s got her fingers in Kate’s hair, stroking gently. Her hair’s so soft, and her skin is warm. There’s a comfortable weight above her sternum and after a second she registers that it’s the combination of Kate’s hand and Lisa’s free one, fingers intertwined, resting on Lisa’s chest.

It hits Lisa then - they’re holding hands. And they’ve done that before, they do it often, but not like this. They’re holding hands and lying in bed together and she’s stroking Kate’s hair and she feels warm, a syrupy, fuzzy warmth that feels golden in her veins. She remembers Kate on the coach, two weeks into the tour, smiling at her and saying _I’m so happy,_ and Lisa thinks she understands now exactly what she meant.

“Kate,” she whispers, clear despite her tiredness, and she wonders why she’s asking when part of her thinks she already knows the answer. “What are we doing?”

Moments pass; Lisa brings her gaze down from the hotel ceiling to meet Kate’s eyes. They’re open too, bright in the darkness of their room, familiar and beautiful. She’s so beautiful. Her breathing is slow and steady. She looks at Lisa and doesn’t stop. Not even when she lifts her head, when she pushes up a little so her face is just above Lisa’s, looking down at her - not until their lips meet, not until Kate is kissing her, and Lisa is lying on a double bed in a small hotel room in the middle of Leeds with Kate’s mouth moving against her own and Lisa thinks _oh_ and _I’m in love with her_ and _I’m so happy. I’m so, so happy, with her._

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Kate murmurs dreamily, rich with the hazy delight of someone who’s gotten what they wanted against all odds. It’s true - and of course it is; Kate’s never lied to Lisa and Lisa knows it. She lays back down, leaving another slow, lingering kiss against Lisa’s collarbone. Lisa brushes her lips against Kate’s forehead and Kate lets out a laugh, something sweet, drowsy, lovely. “I love you,” she says. It isn’t momentuous, doesn’t uproot Lisa’s entire world. In the cozy stillness of their hotel room, it’s simply yet another truth that Kate speaks. Lisa smiles against Kate’s skin and she knows Kate feels it. “Will you still love me in the morning?”

“Lisa,” Kate says, firm and amused. “I would love you even if I never woke up again. Tomorrow… the day after… every day after that.”

“All right, Nicholas Sparks,” Lisa replies. Kate snorts, a bubbling laugh that Lisa doubts she’d let anyone else hear. “What can I say? You make me soft. And a little stupid at times.” Her hand finds Lisa’s again, holding tight. Lisa’s falling asleep, unable to keep her eyes from closing even though she wants to linger in this moment forever. Wants to just stay here, on this double bed with Kate, never worrying about anything else. Just her and Kate against the world.

Or maybe not. “You make me better,” Kate whispers, one last thing before they both fall asleep, and Lisa knows they’ll wake up wrapped around each other, Kate’s eyes dry. For the first time she’ll greet the morning by kissing Kate awake. The first morning, but it won’t be the last. They’ll get on the coach and go home to Flitcroft, back to the real world, where they won’t just start and end with the choir.

Red’s still there. So is Frankie. So is Richard. Tomorrow won’t be as easy as getting into the same bed as Kate like the one they share right now, holding each other as they fall asleep. None of it will be the same except for how much Kate loves her. And how much Lisa loves her back. Is that enough? Lisa wonders. Or can she make it enough?

She doesn’t know. She does think she wants to try.

 _I’m so happy,_ Kate said, and Lisa hears, now, what it meant. _I’m so happy because of you._

The sun will dawn in a matter of hours. A whole new day. For now, Lisa falls asleep with a single thought on her mind, one that will stay for a long time. _I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives._


End file.
